


Color War

by WolfFalke



Category: a song of fire and ice, game of thrones
Genre: Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29064828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfFalke/pseuds/WolfFalke
Summary: A slight misunderstanding and a moment to bond over a thrown rag.  And remember it is all Jon's fault.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Color War

Title: Color War

Author: WolfFalke

Disclaimer: I do not own ASOIAF or Game of Thrones, they belong to GRR Martin, HBO and possible others. No copyright infringement is intended, this is all for fun. I will return every one when I am done with my mischief for the day.

Color War

Arya looked down at her shirt the one that now had an odd little blob of color distracting it from its proper color of grey. She liked grey it went with everything, but this little weird blob of yellow? Or was it a green? Was there such a color as yellow-green?? Whatever it was, it was now on her shirt one of the few shirts she actually owned and she had her sister to think for it. Bother she didn't want to have to kill Sansa she actually got along with her now, but her shirt had been attacked while she was still wearing it no less.

Slowly she raised her head, an eyebrow arched as she regarded her sister. Her stunned sister who was looking at her with jaw dropped one hand still holding another yellow-green color soaked rag. "N-n-now Arya that wasn't meant for you," Sansa began holding out one hand while slowly backing up. "You see... It was Jon, yes Jon who started it." _'Be firm, don't let her smell your fear, because you know she is way more wolf then you will ever be,'_ she told herself firmly.

"Jon, you say?" Arya asked her hands going behind her back a habit she was still trying to break herself of. Too many years a prisoner of the House of Black and White, with a shake of her head she pushed the thought aside she was free now. She was where she belonged now. "Yet you are the one with the yellow-green rags, one of which you threw at me. Where is Jon, now that you can't find him to do whatever you are planning to do with those rags?" She inquired in an even calm voice, which seemed to unsettle Sansa even more for some reason.

This was a new kind of game, a game that didn’t have to end in death. Of course that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be a bit humiliating to certain people, but first knowing the rules, if any, so she could break them as necessary.

_'Oh seven hells she is being calm about this,'_ Sansa thought trying to keep distance between her unpredictable sister, “yelling and cursing I can handle but this calm rational Arya. Oh Hells she is going to kill me."

Arya actually laughed at that, "You do realize you just said that out loud, right Sansa?" She asked her wicked little smirking grin back in full force. “Now don’t be that way, I promise if I ever decide to kill you, I will give you fair warning and a head start.” She offered with a calm voice and that annoying smirking grin, she knew always drove her sister half mad.

Seeing the smirk, “Now you’re just messing with me,” Sansa said stomping her foot in indignation forgetting she was trying to keep a safe distance from; her unpredictable, even before going off and becoming a faceless assassin, sibling.

With a laugh and a wolfish grin, Arya cut the distance between them and threw an arm around her sister, “No, no I am not messing with you. You attacked one of my favorite shirts with some odd yellow-green color. I picked it out myself, stealing it off some guy my size, I am fond of this shirt, Sansa. Besides I never joke about killing – it just wrong you can’t joke about death, the Many Faced God gets annoyed about such things.” She said with a remarkably straight face.

Looking at her sister for a long moment out of the corner of her eye, “Hmm, maybe about joking about death,” Sansa allowed feeling confident about her decision, “but the shirt you didn’t steal you like it too much.

“You seem awful sure about that sister dear,” Arya allowed keeping her sister close, “which makes the attack on my shirt very much demanding of justice. I do not own much, and my shirt was assaulted. Honor demands I seek retribution against the person responsible. You say it is Jon’s fault. Then we must seek out our half-brother… cousin… whatever the hell he is and demand answers.”

It was Sansa’s turn to arch an eyebrow, she knew that look dancing in her sister’s stormy grey eyes, knew that twisted bit of Arya logic that always seemed to baffle, confuse, and anger her so much. And she didn’t realize just how much she missed that confounded twisted logic until that moment. Her sister was still in there, that annoying Arya Underfoot hadn’t been beat out of her by the House of Black and White after all. Like the wolf blood that ran in the Stark family, that refused to be tamed to be subjugated by anymore, let alone 'No one' that had tried to destroy her sister and turn her into something she could simply never be. As violent, murderous; and a bit psychopathic at times as Arya could be, there was still her little sister buried under all that rage. Sansa was pleased she seemed to be able to of sparked that part in her sister. “Yes Jon is the one at fault,” Sansa said firmly choosing her words carefully, now that she had sparked that bit of playfulness she wanted to see more of it. And if all of Arya’s playful aggression over her attacked shirt meant Jon was going to end up covered in the Gods' only knew what. Well all the better, it was time someone else was the target of Arya’s revenge, after all it was a nice shirt, she allowed.

The End.


End file.
